Lucian and Cristina stood facing each other, the silence between them heavy enough to press against the walls.
Lucian's eyes were fixed on her—sharp, unreadable, like a blade held steady. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, darker than before, carrying weight that made the air shift.
"I will speak to Alexander."
He paused, his jaw tightening.
"How could he lie to me?"
Cristina's expression changed instantly. She stepped forward, light but urgent, her hand half‑raised as if to stop him.
"No," she said quickly. "Don't say anything to him. He didn't do anything."
Lucian's shoulders stiffened. His words came clipped, controlled.
"He has worked with me for years. Never lied."
His gaze didn't waver.
"And now…"
He let the sentence die, but the unfinished thought hung like smoke.
Cristina gave a small laugh, brittle at the edges, trying to cut through the tension.
"You're blaming me for that?"
Lucian didn't answer. He only looked at her—longer than necessary, long enough that she felt the weight of his scrutiny. Something about her unsettled him… or perhaps it unsettled him too much.
Then, suddenly, his voice softened, almost out of place.
"Take care of yourself."
Cristina blinked, caught off guard.
"That came out of nowhere."
Lucian's tone dropped further, calm but firm, his posture leaning in just slightly.
"If anything happens to you in your world… call me."
Her brows drew together.
"And how exactly will you help me?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "Don't you have rules… in your hell?"
"I do."
He held her gaze, the silence stretching. His eyes shifted, as though weighing something unspoken.
"But…" his voice lowered, "you seem to have a habit of finding trouble."
Cristina tilted her head, one brow arched.
"So that's your reason?"
"I will protect you until—"
"—until the contract is over, right?" she cut in, her tone lighter, though her eyes searched his face for cracks.
Lucian's stare didn't falter.
"Yes."
The word was firm, but his eyes betrayed hesitation.
Cristina looked away first, exhaling.
"Fine. Then tell me what I have to do. Use an ouija board? Some ritual?"
Lucian didn't reply. Instead, he moved with deliberate calm, sliding a ring from his finger.
"Give me your hand."
Cristina's gaze flicked to the ring, then back to him.
"It's too big. It won't fit."
A faint shadow of a smile touched his lips.
"It will."
She hesitated, then extended her hand. Lucian stepped closer, his presence cool and steady.
"Allow me."
His fingers brushed hers—cold, precise. For a moment, Cristina felt the air shift, a strange stillness settling around them. The ring slid onto her finger, loose at first—then tightened, fitting perfectly.
Her eyes widened.
"…That's new."
Lucian's gaze lingered on her hand before rising back to her face.
"Whenever you need me," he said, voice quieter now, deeper, "bring your hand to your lips… and say my full name. Three times."
Cristina tested it softly, almost tasting the sound.
"Lucian Ravenswood."
Something flickered in his eyes—quick, controlled.
"Yes."
"And you'll come?"
"I will."
Her voice softened, almost without her meaning it.
"You're doing a lot for me… Lucian."
His name lingered on her lips. Lucian didn't answer. His gaze stayed locked on her, though his thoughts turned inward, sharp and restless.
This isn't right… Something is changing. I need to understand it—before Lydia and David drag themselves into trouble.
His jaw set.
"I'm doing my job," he said at last, voice steady again. "Part of the contract. Keeping you safe."
He stepped closer, not rushed, not hesitant—just enough to close the space.
"You don't understand," he added, his voice lowering, darker. "I'm very good at what I do. In hell, I don't stop at mercy."
His eyes held hers.
"I break souls. I take them apart until there's nothing left to lie. And I enjoy it."
The words should have driven her back. They didn't.
Cristina moved instead, slowly, deliberately, placing her hand against his chest, right over his heart.
Lucian froze. Her touch was light, but it wasn't something he was used to.
"You feel happiness when you do that?" she asked, her voice steady, soft.
Something shifted in his expression—small, but real. Not anger. Not control. Something closer to being caught.
He stepped back, breaking the contact, though not sharply. A faint smile touched his lips, carefully composed.
"Yes," he said.
But the certainty was gone from his voice.
.
.
The clock's buzz filled the room, sharp and insistent.
Lucian placed the money on Cristina's lap, his movements deliberate, then remained where he was.
Cristina frowned, her voice quiet but edged with curiosity.
"You're not leaving ?"
Lucian's gaze held hers, steady, unreadable.
"No. You'll go first. Then I will."
The sound pressed closer, and in an instant Cristina vanished—drawn back to her world, the ring cool against her skin.
.
.
Cristina
.
.
She opened her eyes in Arian's home. The warmth of the place steadied her breath. Elise was nearby, and soon Arian and Alexander rushed in, concern etched across their faces.
"Are you okay?" Arian asked, his voice tight.
Cristina nodded, pushing herself upright. Her legs trembled, but she steadied herself.
"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt anymore."
Arian moved closer, ready to catch her, but she stood firm.
"she smiled and said I can walk ....
Elise's eyes widened.
"You recovered so fast."
Cristina gave a faint laugh, brushing it off.
"Maybe I'm tougher than I look."
.
Arian moved closer, but she lifted her hand slightly, stopping him.
"Dear all, please give me a little time. I need to dress… I want to look normal."
They exchanged glances, then nodded. Without pressing her further, they stepped out of the room, leaving her space.
Elise lingered at the doorway, her tone gentle.
"If you need anything, let me know."
Cristina nodded, grateful.
"Thank you, Elise."
---After dressing, Cristina walked into the drawing room, expecting to find them waiting. The space was empty, cushions still indented from earlier. A faint clatter of dishes and voices carried from the kitchen.
Curious, she followed the sound.
Inside, the kitchen was alive with movement. Arian stood at the counter, slicing bread with careful precision. Elise poured milk into glasses, her laughter light as she arranged plates. Alexander leaned over the stove, turning the chicken as it sizzled, the aroma filling the air.
.
The dining table was set with care—bread stacked neatly, milk cooling in tall glasses, chicken steaming on plates.
Cristina ate quietly, her posture composed, though her thoughts wandered. Arian's gaze drifted toward her hand as she reached for the bread. His eyes lingered, and finally he spoke, voice low but curious.
"Cristina, your ring is very unique. Where did you get it?"
Alexander, mid‑sip of water, nearly spilled his glass. He lowered it quickly, staring at her with wide eyes. Elise too paused, her glance sharp with interest.
Cristina smiled faintly, her tone calm and measured.
"It's from my old generation. My mother had it, and now I have it."
Elise and Arian nodded, satisfied, and returned to their meal. But Alexander's gaze did not soften. He kept staring, questions burning behind his silence, as though he knew more than he dared to say.
After the meal ended, Cristina rose and slipped into the kitchen. Arian was there, clearing the counter, his movements steady. She stepped behind him and wrapped her arms lightly around his waist.
"Thank you, Arian. You were there for me, and you helped me."
He turned, his expression gentle, his voice firm.
"Don't thank me. I'll always be there when you need me."
Cristina's chest tightened. Her feelings tangled—Lucian's shadow pressed against her heart, yet Arian's warmth was undeniable.
"Well," she said softly, "I'll go home today. You know I'm fine."
Arian shook his head, his jaw set.
"No, you're not."
Cristina held his hand, her grip steady.
"I am. And I'm thinking of coming back to work tomorrow."
He frowned, reluctant, his eyes searching hers.
"You need rest… but…" His words faded, heavy with concern.
---
Balcony
.
.
On the balcony, Elise leaned against the railing, the daylight sharp and clear. She lit a cigarette, smoke curling upward into the breeze.
Alexander appeared suddenly, his presence quiet but startling. Elise turned quickly, her heart jumping.
"Alexander—you startled me."
He raised a hand slightly, his voice softer than usual.
"My apologies."
They sat together at the small table, smoke drifting between them, the air carrying a crisp edge.
"Thank you for taking care of Cristina," Alexander said. "And for letting me know..
Elise exhaled slowly, her eyes steady.
"She's my friend too. And you're her friend. It's our duty."
Alexander studied her—brown hair, brown eyes catching the light. His gaze lingered longer than she expected, as though he was seeing more than he wished to admit.
"Let's go to the market," Alexander said, breaking the silence. His voice carried a sudden warmth. "We'll get some ice cream."
Elise's lips curved faintly, her eyes softening.
"I could go for that."
They walked side by side, their conversation drifting in and out—light at first, then fading into a quiet that felt natural, almost comforting.
After a while, Elise spoke, her tone thoughtful, her gaze turned slightly toward him.
"Is there someone… in your life?"
Alexander's eyes lowered, his shoulders tightening.
"There was," he said. "We were engaged."
Elise's expression softened, her steps slowing.
"What happened?"
"She died," he replied simply, the words heavy but controlled. "It's been years."
A pause settled between them, filled only by the rhythm of their footsteps.
"I'm sorry," Elise said gently.
He nodded once, his face unreadable.
"And since then… you never tried again?" she asked, her voice quiet but insistent.
Alexander's jaw tightened.
"I didn't want to. It never felt right."
They walked a few steps in silence before he continued, his voice lower now.
"But life doesn't stop for anyone. It keeps moving."
Elise glanced at him, her eyes searching.
"And you? Do you want to move with it?"
He let out a soft breath, almost a sigh.
"I think I should," he admitted. "I can't keep living in the past."
Her voice gentled, her hand brushing his arm lightly.
"The people we love wouldn't want that. They'd want us to be happy."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Elise's fingers lingered against his sleeve, her tone warm and certain.
"You deserve that," she said.
Alexander didn't answer, but something in his expression eased, as if her words had lifted a weight.
They reached the ice‑cream stall, bought some cones, and walked back together. The silence between them was no longer heavy—it was quietly shared.
At the entrance, Elise asked softly, "When will you leave?"
Alexander hesitated, his eyes lowering.
"In a week."
Cristina and Arian appeared just then, joining them with curious looks.
"In a week?" Arian repeated, brows raised.
Cristina's gaze fixed on Alexander, her tone firm but playful.
"No. Not yet. First we'll take a trip. I'll show you the places worth seeing. Then you can go."
Alexander shook his head, his voice quiet.
"Cristina…"
She turned to Elise, half‑smiling.
"Tell him. He'll listen to you."
Elise met Alexander's eyes, her voice steady but gentle.
"Will you not make time for us?"
Alexander looked down, silent for a moment. Then he nodded.
"Yes. I will."
Cristina smiled, a teasing note in her voice, though something more thoughtful lingered beneath it.
"So… you listen to Elise now?"
Alexander avoided her gaze, a flicker of self‑consciousness passing over him. He handed her the ice creams.
"Here. Take these."
Cristina laughed softly.
"Relax. I'm only teasing."
She hesitated, her tone quieter.
"I should leave now."
"I'll drop you," Arian said at once.
Before anyone could respond, his phone rang. He stepped aside, his voice tightening as he spoke. Irritation edged his words, and after a few curt replies he ended the call, tension still clear.
Alexander noticed.
"Is everything alright? Do you need help?"
Arian shook his head.
"No, I'll handle it. You know how business is."
Alexander nodded slightly.
"Go. I'll drop her."
Elise added calmly, her tone steady.
"You should go. It sounds urgent. We'll manage here."
Arian hesitated, then gave a short nod.
"Alright. Take care."
He hugged Cristina briefly, handed his spare car keys to Alexander, and left.
The three of them settled into the other car.
Cristina leaned back.
"Drop Elise first. Her place is in the opposite direction."
Elise shook her head.
"No, it's fine. You go first."
Cristina gave her a knowing look.
"You've already done enough. Don't worry about it."
Elise paused, then relented.
"Alright."
Alexander drove in silence. When they reached Elise's place, he stopped the car.
"Take care. I'll see you tomorrow."
Cristina added gently,
"Take care, Elise."
Elise stepped out. For a moment her eyes met Alexander's—something unspoken passing between them—before she closed the door.
Elise offered a small smile to both of them
Bye ...
The car moved forward, but the silence inside carried weight, pressing between them with intent.
After a short distance, Alexander eased the vehicle to a halt. He turned toward Cristina, his expression sharpened, voice low but unyielding.
"Tell me what happened yesterday. And why are you wearing Lucian's ring?"
Cristina drew in a slow breath, her gaze drifting toward the window before settling back on him.
"It was… complicated," she said quietly. "David helped. Lucian too."
Alexander's eyes narrowed, his silence urging her on.
"He gave me his blood," she continued, her tone steady though the words felt heavy. "That's why I recovered so quickly."
Alexander inclined his head once, absorbing the admission, though tension gathered in his jaw.
"That explains it. But the ring?"
Cristina lowered her eyes to her hand, the faint gleam of the band catching her attention.
"He gave it to me," she said softly. "He told me if I'm ever in danger, I can call him. He'll come."
Alexander stilled, his voice dropping.
"He'll come… here?"
"Yes."
He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration rising in his tone.
"That's not something he can do freely. Demons don't cross into this world without consequence. There are rules."
Cristina's brow furrowed, her voice carrying quiet defiance.
"He said he would handle it. As if it wasn't a problem."
Alexander exhaled, the sound heavy, unease etched into his words.
"He's involving himself too much."
Cristina shook her head, her voice soft but resolute.
"No. He told me he would take care of me… at least until the contract ends."